


Aegis for their Hearts

by ImaShayne



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: M/M, NSFW, NSFW eventually, Quest, Smut, Smut Eventually, god-touched
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25608535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaShayne/pseuds/ImaShayne
Summary: Alan believes that this journey will be a quick one. Visit his estranged spy-master of a sister in her new home country. Act as part of the Tortallian delegation for Queen Dovasary's coronation. And then head back home to finish his squire training with his Uncle Raoul. Simple plans, and simple outcomes.What he didn't expect was to meet Taybur Sibigat, the captain of the Queen's personal guard, and how enthralled he'd become with that winning smile and teasing disposition.Nor did he count on the god's getting involved. Mithro's setting him upon a quest that will lead him further away from his home, just as multiple deities toy with his love interest.
Relationships: Taybur Sibigat and Alan of Pirate's Swoop
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22
Collections: Tamora Pierce Discord's Collected Fics





	1. Arrival over a Bulwark

Midwinter 463

No effort had been spared in Queen Dovasary’s coronation, though the foretold event was still days away.

The delegation from Tortall was not the first to arrive, nor were they the last. Though the King’s Champion; The Lady Knight, Alanna of Pirate’s Swoop and Olau, along with her family, had arrived just a day previous, Alan felt as if they had been there for an entire week already with all that had happened since their ship—a royal vessel with more pomp than purpose—had sailed into Rajmuat Harbor with a very green Alan tumbling onto the pier. In the whirlwind that followed their landing the squire could barely recall his first glimpse of the island country, as he’d been handing over the edge of the railing alongside ma, in a struggle to keep his paltry meal of vegetable broth from rolling with the waves.

Neither of them were given a chance to recover from their seasickness as they were swept up into the arms of waiting emissaries who lead them through a dizzying parade of names, titles and faces which Alan had no hope of remembering. Just as he was finally able to regain his land legs; no longer wobbling beneath him as a newborn lamb’s, and an equilibrium was returned to his stomach as it calmed, the first thing Alan noticed beyond the brightly adorned servants who saw to all they required as the excitement died down and their first day drew to a close, was the inescapable _heat_ that pressed in on him from all sides. Never before had Alan dealt with air that weighed down on him and filled his lungs like a fog. This dragging sensation made even worse after the chill of the north, where he’d just come from serving his uncle and knight-master, Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie’s Peak.

The adjustment was harsh for the squire.

“This is midwinter?” Alan muttered to himself, scowling as he looked out from his large open windows. Not seeing much of the grand gardens beyond as he fell deeper into his own thoughts. Tortall was vast, so much more land than this country comprised of nothing more than a scattering of glorified reefs and volcanoes. Yet when seasons came and went they did so over all the kingdom.

No wonder Aly fit in so well in this distant country.

Thinking of his twin brought a bitterness to his mind like a shadow, that he didn’t much care for. He tired to shake from this troublesome mood.

The boy had believed he stood solitary in his rooms; He’d thought that being situated in an out of the way wing within the labyrinthine royal palace—their party had been escorted there and then released to rest from their travels. The chuckle that sounded from behind him proved Alan wrong however.

He barely bit back his sigh.

Alan should have known. When around his Da no one was ever truly alone.

Did the man not have more important things to see too? As both a delegate and a spy. Alan had, too promptly, assumed that the only room in the man's mind and heart would be taken up by Aly.

“Tis a wonder that anywhere can be this humid so near to the solstice.” When his son gave no inclination of having heard him, or giving a response the man continued. “But even now on the northern most isles it’s snowing.”

Alan shook his head in disbelief, a smile softening his features at the mere possibility.

“Even with this unusual warmth it’s still good to have both my feet on solid ground once more.” Alan spoke deliberately, finally turning to take in his Da’s constant mysterious form. The lanky man leaned against the door frame of their adjoining suites. Still in his traveling gear; a rough woolen cloak worn into a forgettable gray by age and use, windswept with edges tattered. Beneath which the richness of his clothes and the true mark of his status lay in the red and gold livery of his wife’s knighthood. Silvered strands ran through his chestnut locks, cropped short and kept messy, catching the light of the lowering sun through the bay. Clever hazel eyes looked past Alan, not truly seeing him, perhaps just as lost in his own mind as his son had been moments before- studying the terrace and gardens at his back. Or perhaps his swift mind was already strategizing for possible attacks or escapes. Da was always planning. He was like Aly that way; Alan could’ve sworn the man’s mind ran in eight directions where ordinary folks’ such as him went in only one or two. He supposed his Da hadn’t survived for years as the Rogue without his quick thinking. Either way it was not any different than what Alan was used too from the man.

He didn’t’ share any of these needless sentiments with his Da though. He’d always found it difficult to speak to him, as if all information was kept locked away for a later, insidious use. Or that, with only a few exchanged words George Cooper, Whisper Man for the Kingdom of Tortall, would be able to pry out every one of Alan’s secrets. The boy knew he had no true reason to feel uneasy around his Da. Certain, or perhaps simply hopeful, that regardless both of would continue to love him just the same. George had always been kind and gentle, Alanna fair and patient (in her own way) with all their children.

Still it was Alan’s fear. George could no more change what he did for the crown than he could shift his own nature. They were one and the same. Spycraft was in the man’s heart. Just as it was in Aly’s

Alan had his own nature he could not move against. While he knew very little of the world, this much he understood.

“Nevertheless, I’ll be glad when I am home again.” Was all he voiced.

George raised an expressive brow, the same shape and color as Aly’s, and as his own, finally focused on Alan completely. “We’ve only just got here lad. Do you not wish to see how other’s live?” Alan knew who these ‘others’ his Da spoke of were; his dearest twin and her people here. The one’s she’d chosen over her own family.

Alan clasped his hands behind his back but was not quite as adapt at schooling his features.

He wondered briefly what his Da saw playing out behind his own eyes, speckled with green just as Aly’s were, throughout the russet. After a few silent moments George opened his mouth, his hesitation apparent only to someone who’d known the spymaster for a very long time, before the man thought better of whatever words were piled upon that silver tongue of his. Tension in the room grew, almost tangible, setting a hard edge against the muggy air until it felt as if something would snap.

“Get some rest Alan. We’ve a busy time ahead of us.”

“I will. Goodnight Father.” Lord HaMinch had pounded the use of proper titles and honorable speech patterns into all his pages and squires.

“You know I chafe when you go all formal on me.” Alan couldn’t be sure in the growing gloom of twilight, but there was the hint of a teasing smirk in his Da’s voice.

Alan blinked and it was as if George Cooper had melted into the shadows.


	2. The Queen's Shield

Alan hadn’t believed he would fall asleep so easily, with frustrations playing through his skull like naughty children dodging their bed time.

But the voyage and that which came after must have been more exhausting than even he gave credit for. As he settled against the too plush cushions of the bed and closed his eyes, the boy fell into a fitful slumber with the foreign aromas of strange spices clinging to him.

***

_ It was less a dream and more a memory. One not so tangible as a conversation once held or good times shared with loved ones. Nor as clear as simple images played out across a stage. _

__

_ No this was a feeling presented to him in colors as if in a painting. A slate blue, broad and flat like the heavy underside of storm clouds blanketed everything, dulling all else in his own constant disquiet. An ill-omened mustard yellow sparked as if ignited from a flint, dying down as if it were as fickle as a candle’s flame. Only to flare again. His worries, cropping up like sickly flowers and dying before they’d found any traction. _

__

_ Alan knew these emotions well enough. So much so that even in his dream he could conjure up the memory… _

__

“Hurry up, Alan!” Thom hissed as he hefted a traveling bag, most likely filled with books, over his shoulder. “We should have been off for Corus at dawn’s first light!” His voice dripped with the impatient irritation that only an older brother could muster. 

The young boy of thirteen fidgeted with the silver clasp of his new traveling cloak: a gift from his parents for having chosen to work towards his shield. It was beautifully woven wool, with subtle intertwining designs of leaf and twig upon the deepest juniper dye.

“Oh, stop that! It’s fine!” Aly stated brightly even as she chastised, slapping his hand away and straightening the hood’s folds at his neck.

“Easy for you to say-“ He muttered, looking down and away. “You’re always so sure of  _ everything  _ you do.” He wanted to add that it was not she who was going away. But the words remained stubbornly locked behind his lips.

“I don’t know what you’re grumbling about, you’re the dunderhead that wanted to do this… knight thing.” Aly waved her hand about her hand in a lackadaisical manner, her laugh, as always, was contagious and Alan couldn’t help but to return her smile as he pushed at her shoulder, quiet manner turning playful.

“Well, I wouldn’t have so if you’d just done so yourself!”

“What? And have to compete with Ma and Kel? No thank you, sir. I wouldn’t even look pretty while doing it!” Aly pulled her twin’s hands into her own and Alan marveled at how, even through this simple touch, the connection between them thrummed to life. “We both know that either way you’d miss me-“

Wasn’t that just the crux of it. Alan missed his sister like a limb. He’d never been away from her for this long, nor this far.

They’d never thought to question  _ why _ she did not share this connection. Ma had only stated, when they were young and filled with curiosity, that her twin Thom and her had shared a similar bond of the mind. That was that. Alan had always wanted to ask her more of how it worked, if she too had been the only one for which it seemed to work. He simply never did.

_ Eventually the colors that represented his emotions began to fade into the calming darkness of dreamless sleep, and the memory grew faint along with it. _

__

It was the heat that woke him much earlier than he’d meant to be up. Alan was away from his knight-master after all. Though he knew how those who’d taught him the ways of chivalry and combat would be disappointed in his wish to sleep in during this time away.

For a short time the boy tossed and turned in vain, kicking the blankets and pillows alike from him in frustration. A soft sigh escaped Alan’s lips as he stood, reaching for his travel pack. From within he pulled a clean pair of breeches, the material thicker for the colder weather Alan had just left behind, and stifling as he struggled to pull them on in the darkness. He tucked the simple white night shirt in before grubbing at the bottom of the leather satchel, finding the steel fan with ease. Its weight felt at home in his gasp as he lifted the shukusen free. He might as well keep himself in shape while he was here. He’d no glaive, like Kel, and as a squire no sword as of yet. He tapped the cool metal ribs against his palm, biting his bottom lip in thought. The boy knew that if he lit one of the smaller candles or an oil lantern he'd disturb his family in the other rooms. But moving around in the gloom felt like an accident waiting to happen with the sharp edges of this small weapon. Spotting the open window, with not even a single breeze flowing in to alleviate this sweltering weather, Alan made his way on silent feet over to the ledge and out into the aromatic night.

In the sky to the west the first quarter moon hung like a promise amongst the stars. The small grove the boy found himself in was illuminated in silver across the rich green, placing the foliage in stark relief. Casting more than enough light to train by. First Alan stretched his body out, following the method taught to him by the Shang Wildcat (rather than the stiff routine that the pages learned beneath Lord Padraig) His fit body flowed into the memorized forms, movements like water, the fan an extension of his arm. Alan breathed into the motions, mindful of when his body extended and where it pained him. He leaned into that sensation until every stiffness that remained from his voyage had been worked out. Until that was finished, and not a moment sooner, Alan didn’t move beyond his warm up. When he finally had, he released a soft pant of relief. Moving slowly took more effort in a way than the faster paced fighting positions molded into him by rigorous training.

The snap as the fan was cracked open was the loudest sound in the night and Alan cringed, holding his breath and awaiting any telltale sounds of anyone waking. But the scorching air seemed to dull even the sound.

When there was no responding noise from his parents’ window nor his aunt’s and uncle’s, Alan continued. Though it wasn’t as much of a challenge; tossing the fan into the air for only himself to catch again, as it usually was with the Yamani ladies or other pages who dared to join them. He still had, dare he even think it,  _ fun.  _ As he sent the steel and cloth flipping higher and higher, embellishing his tosses with intricate swirls and his catches with daring last second feints. These flourishes added the difficulty he craved, but still… Alan wondered idly if he could juggle two of them… or more. He chuckled and shook his head.

Breath came faster and sweat gathered thickly over his pale skin, dripping down between his shoulder blades, tickling as it went. While Alan could ignore that sensation, he could not avoid the weight of the accursed torridity, this air that hung over him as surely as chainmail and settling into his lungs as if to strangle.

Alan hadn’t noticed that the first shine of the new day had kissed the indigo sky, transforming it steadily into a gentle flowering pink, until the metallic edges of the shukusen glared a harsh ray of sunlight into his eyes. He blinked rapidly and stepped back just in time, with a dull thunk the heavy blade buried into the soft earth.

Alan swiped at his brow, sleeve coming away damp. It took him all together too long to take note of the hairs which stood on end along the base of his neck and the crawling sensation over his shoulder. Longer still to discern what this impression meant. But having spent his formative years with Aly and his Da, the boy knew when he was being watched. As he moved through his final cool down stretches, he was only able to ignore this for a short time before he lost his patience. Not even pausing in his actions he called out into the early morning quiet; “I know you’re there, Aly.”

His voice disturbed a number of sleeping colorful birds the likes of which Alan had never before seen, their feathers glinting like small jewels in the morning sun as they twittered their irritation at him. More lazily than these small finches rose large black crows, like the last shadows of night fleeing against the golden glory. Against their lighter voices, the morbid grating of the  _ ka-kaws _ amongst the more melodic, but no less bothered chirps, there was no answer to Alan’s statement.

He paused mid reach, straightening out as he looked around. “You know this won’t be like when we were children playing games!” He spoke normally as if his sister were already standing before him. Even if she was not within easy hearing he knew all her tricks, like how she could sharpen her sight and read lips. “You won’t scare me!”

Again there was no response. Not a telltale hitch of breath or teasing giggle. Wariness crept under his skin and he flipped his shukusen open with an imperceptible motion, his eyes narrowed as he studied the tropical foliage surrounding him. There was no movement and cautiously he stepped between two bushes and out from the secluded sanctuary outside his window. There were few people out this early, and all of them wore the colors of the palace guard.

Alan began to scan the faces of those closest to him, but balked as his eyes landed on an imposing form. The man’s back was too him, but with the way those broad shoulders flexed beneath the royal uniform a fluttering warmth like wings had already set to his insides. For too long his gaze lingered before Alan spun, not wanting to wait and see if this dark haired stranger were as handsome as the boy’s own imagination was already supplying.

It wouldn’t do for him to find another unattainable attraction while he was here. Better to shut it down now. Before it could get at all out of hand.

Perhaps today would prove as busy as the last few ones and serve as a distraction for him.

***

The gods must have a sense of humor, Alan thought dully to himself as he stripped to his undergarments and picked up the clothes that had been set out for that evenings’ meal upon the river. Alan eyed it distastefully. The boy was not a fan of either dressing fancily, nor the sort of gatherings which required such finery. That, and he’d no clothes prepared when he’d left for such boiling weather. So what was available to him was a heavy velvet tunic of deepest jade, silver bordering the squared neckline and hems, with the same shining metallic embroidery in designs of subtle forestry. His leggings were a soft gray and equally as bulky. He was going to be baking like bread in all of this!

The entire day had been distasteful. Though a better description would simply be boring. It had passed slow and boiling. Alan was simply not as crucial as his Ma or his uncle Numair, who seemed, both could not escape it. They were required to meet with the new Queen’s advisers alongside the other foreign dignitaries. He might have enjoyed the sudden shift of pace. Perhaps pulled one of the books he’d brought with him, or taken a nap. But this heat bogged his mind and body. There was simply no distraction from that.

It also became apparent as time wore and dragging by as if in chains, that Aly would not be paying him any impromptu visits!

Alan had also tried not to think too hard about this. If he were one for exploring, Alan might have gone in search of her.

He heard cursing from the other room before Ma’s head, graying red locks a mess about her head.

“I hope you’re almost ready Alan- leave me be, George, I know!” She turned back into her own rooms as her husband began to flatten out her flyaway hair. “Curse these royal wardrobe changes! More like royal pains in my-” Alan couldn’t help but chuckle as his ma’s voice faded into the distinct sounds of her continued complaints.

Alan himself sighed as he turned towards the mirror, now fully dressed, to straighten everything out.

His hair, not quite as sunset red as Alanna’s, and not quite as wheat blond as George’s, was shorn short above his ears, No amount of styling could fix the cowlick over his bangs, which brought them up and over in an annoyingly dramatic swoop. The viridian tunic made the specks of beryl in his otherwise amber eyes stand out, giving them more depth. His features were pale from the long seasons he’d already spent in the north, the freckles from summers past spent at Pirate’s Swoop fading into a memory dusted across his nose and cheeks.

Alan straightened his belt, already itching beneath his collar as sweat gathered.

At the very least he wouldn’t have to be serving anyone at this dinner.

The sound of squalling came from the room behind him, opposite Da’s and Ma’s quarters, and Aunt Daine came bustling through it looking tired but much more immaculate than she normally did, dressed in a flowing sarong of sepia and maroon. Only a few horse hairs were visible about it. Her long curls were held up in a bun to keep it out of her unhappy infant’s reach.

“She doesn’t seem pleased-“ Alan commented as Uncle Numair ducked into the room behind them.

“She’s just roused from a nap,” he explained as George and Alanna joined them. “And I honestly won’t be too broken up if we have to leave the dinner early.” Daine added, suppressing a yawn.

“Lucky.” Ma muttered, before adding quickly, “I know how you feel.” Da looked just as pained as Ma, but was able to hide this more swiftly and thoroughly as their party made their way out. At the entrance to their wing a pair of servants waited to lead them along the winding pathways, which wove between the shade of arching indoor ballrooms of impressive architecture adorned with tapestries and murals, and lavish gardens of exotic blooms and sweet scents. Sparkling tiles inlaid the walkway with mythological mosaics. Alan’s wide eyes took in the images depicted beneath his steps, of crows in flight, volcanic goddesses and large toothed jaguars roaring in victory. They were moving too quickly for the boy to string together the narrative of this legend, but it was breathtaking none-the-less, and sent shivers across his skin.

Yet another breathtaking view met their eyes as they turned a corner. Daine gasped, the delight clear in her voice. George whistled lowly, even Ma whispered a prayer beneath her breath.

Alan’s gaze was pulled up by these sounds, and though outwardly he gave no sign, his heart stopped.

The palace in Corus was nothing to sniff at, and yet, as their party stepped out from the last domed pavilion, evening sun banishing the shadows, light danced over the opaque emerald waters, revealing small chromatic fish with scales like stained glass darting beneath the smooth surface. Large lily pads floated languidly across the stillness, affecting barely a ripple, soft white and pink petals reaching for the rays that shafted down through the soft orange clouds.

The tables and chairs were set upon the grassy banks, the nature around them was the only decoration needed. Ladies, both raka and laurin lounged about on wicker seats with plush cushions. Adorned in the latest fashions of the islands, long flowing skirts in solid satin hues with flowery sarongs folded around their torsos in layered ways that drew the gaze of noblemen.

All save for Alan, who’d hung back as his parents made their way over to the young Queen-to-be, flanked as she was by other aristocrats and guards. His amber gaze slipped past Dovesary, instead scanning the crowd looking for any telltale signs; a shock of strawberry blonde hair--the same as his own, that mischievous smirk. Alan kept on the move as music drifted through the clearing and others mingled, trying to ignore the pang of hurt that grew into a constant ache with each moment that passed without seeing his twin.

Why had she not sought him out yet? Alan knew of course that even if he did spot her amongst those gathered he was not to approach her. Though he’d been itching against that order all day. Apparently Aly was not having the same problem.

As he thought this a tray of food passed him by, carried upon the shoulders of a well muscled serving man (whom Alan tried hard not to notice) the aroma’s of baked spices lingered upon his tongue and his stomach growled. Enough time had passed since their voyage, perhaps he could handle something more substantial than simply soup. However just as the boy thought that, with mouth watering, a strange nausea passed through him and suddenly food did not seem like such a good idea.

Where had that come from? Alan covered his mouth and nose, closing his eyes until the brunt of the sensation passed. He wondered if the short crossing could really have him feeling so ill, when the realization finally came over him as to why it had felt so odd.

It had not been his own.

Why would Aly be feeling this sick though? Before worry could truly set in Alan doubled his efforts to find her.

On the bright side however, his ability to feel what she was feeling meant she was close. These moments of shared emotions and sensations were always stronger when they were in close proximity.

It was much harder than he thought it’d be to spot her though, and Alan stopped looking so much for the features that he remembered and started seeking out smaller hints. She was a spy now Alan had to remind himself. Perhaps he shouldn’t be looking for someone who blatantly looked like his sister and instead keep his eyes peeled for more subtle tells; the way she walked, or a small gestural slip.

Aly truly had hidden herself well.

Alan sighed, glancing around him before choosing a spot out of the way. He walked towards a fig tree, stepping close to it’s trunk. The boy closed his eyes and simply concentrated. He followed the directions Thom had given him not so long ago- when they only knew that his twin wasn’t dead and little else- slowing his breath and clearing his mind. He focused first on his body, separating out the sensations that were his own from those that were not his own. He then  _ felt  _ for his sister until… there! To his right! His lids flew open and he couldn’t help but snort as he pinpointed her finally. She was not dressed as a maid, as Alan had expected. And if he wasn’t certain that this stranger was indeed Aly than he would have never recognized the Bazhir tradesman who stood silently amongst other merchants, disguised beneath a many layered burnoose and most definitely sporting shoes platforms built in to alter her height. Mithros, just looking at her made him feel hot! Even without their connection.

Alan did not notice the sudden warmth at his back or the shadow that fell over him.

“Is something funny?”

A rumbling voice sounded from directly above Alan’s head and the boy couldn’t help how he jolted, spinning around, mouth open though he’d not idea what he might say. Which may have been a blessing for as he looked up…  _ and up and up and up  _ – he had to be of a height, or even taller, than Uncle Numair! Taking in the almost sculpted beauty of the man before him. His own voice caught in his throat-abandoning him. After what was most definitely too long Alan shook his head, unable to break his gaze away despite how loudly he commanded himself to  _ stop staring  _ inside his mind.

Pitch hair curled tightly was cropped close to his head, framed his tanned luarin features. Dark chocolate eyes glinted in an almost recognizably mischievous way. Cheeks which still held the roundness of boyhood made it difficult to tell the man’s age. And- Alan gulped in an embarrassingly audible manner-a most charming smile dimpled them as well. He’d never seen a man with dimples, it seemed that in Corus all the noble ladies had them, and they made the squires and younger knights pant with want. Alan had suffered through more conversations than he’d care to count, with young men painfully waxing on about the purity of dimples. Before now, Alan had no idea what the fuss was about.

He did now.

It was with this enticing expression that this stranger motioned so invitingly to the copse of trees which seemed to mark the border of this supper. Alan’s heart jumped up into his throat and he found himself blithely following before any other thoughts could enter his head. Unsure of what expression his features were making, or what he should be doing with his hands. All knowledge, studiously gathered, of proper decorum from different countries fled his mind.

The music faded until it was a mere hum and the boy was startled to find that they were alone.

Finally a trickle of wariness crept along the edges of Alan’s mind, and he cleared his throat. But before he could manage to wrestle his voice back under his control, or call forth any words to say, that same deep voice so much like a dark honey caused a shiver to roll down through him, and distracted him from the words the other said. He breathed in deeply-realizing that he’d been holding his breath.

“Sorry?” He’d tried to keep his voice light but the single word came out hoarse.

Nothing changed about the tall man’s handsome expression, not the dancing light in his eyes, not the amicable smile. “You lad, are going to get yourself, or your sister killed. Or at the very least into trouble. Any idiot with proper eyes will be able to tell our Aly’s related to the Whisper Man and the lady knight- and you, by sight alone. You cannot continue to purposefully seek her out, either in her disguises, nor in her official capacity.” He’d spoken swiftly, in a clear tone that was somehow able to hold onto both a chastising note, and a teasing one as well. Still the words fell like a blow and Alan bristled, anger heating his face. The other wasn’t quite done however. “Everyone else in your party seem to be better at hiding their recognition.” This last sentiment hit him harder. Even his Ma was doing better? The Lioness had felt personally responsible for her daughter's disappearance, and  _ no one  _ wanted to see Aly more than Alanna.

Alan dropped his head, feeling small and properly berated. Shame blotched his features tomato red. His fists, once clenched, loosened and he rubbed at his arm. The boy was no longer about to  _ demand  _ to know who this man thought he was. The short lecture had already established that he was someone of great import here in the copper isles.

But now he was even more hesitant of what he should say and the silence stretched on.

“Oh, come now-“ Suddenly the other man’s voice sounded much softer, and much closer, than before. Alan’s head snapped up and he took a step back, his face draining of color. The man’s hand was held out as if to lift Alan’s chin.

“Your name is Alan?” He asked, voice returned to the teasing exuberance it had before even as he’d scolded, catching the boy off guard once more. All he could think to do was nod. “I’m Taybur Sibigat. There’s no need to look like a kicked pup. You’re not in trouble—” A large hand slapped onto Alan’s shoulder and he was guided back to the party, music growing distinct once more. “I’m just trying to make sure it stays that way.” He continued to speak idly and Alan tried not to be too obvious as he studied this Taybur Sibigat…. The name tickled at Alan’s memory, but he couldn’t quite pin down when he’d heard it mentioned. 

It was with a start that Alan realized the man was in heavy chainmail, as if, even with the sun lowering to meet with the watery horizon the warmth still hung heavy in the air, he did not feel it. Alan realized why he’d not noticed this earlier, Taybur moved as if all he wore was cloth, his body shifting with the practiced ease of a seasoned warrior under the armor. A tabard hung over the shining scales in a deep burgundy bordered by copper. On the front was a radiant kudarung. The winged horses of the raka royalty. Alan had seen many other kinds of immortals, but had never before met one of them and was excited to meet his first one. The motif was beautifully designed, with strong lines that seemed to highlight the form of the man’s body-

“You’re not what I expected.” Taybur’s voice was again closer, this time Alan didn’t pull back, surrounded as they were by people. He didn’t wish to draw any undue attention towards them. “I expected Aly’s twin to be more…” He gestured in the air for a moment, and Alan gave the man a tired sort of smile, used to hearing this sentiment.

He wanted to ask what this man had expected, though he could guess. He bit back the question and instead provided; “More like her?”

“Would you look at that! He speaks!”

The boy was thankful, at this moment and every moment previous since this exchange had begun, that he’d inherited  _ something  _ other than hair and eye color from his parents. Sure he hadn’t gotten Da’s natural talents in espionage, as Aly seemed too, nor his Ma’s strength. But at the very least it was difficult to make him blush..

“I talk- you just… I just… was startled.”

Taybur’s laughter was deep, and carried in the open air. Even as Alan balked at the looks that were shot their way, his insides melted.

“Well, hopefully next time we meet, I won’t startle you again.” The man bowed and Alan, recognizing the dismissal, mirrored the movement. It was strange, how both relief and jealousy warred within him as the odd man stepped away, instantly engaging a gaggle of courtly ladies. He watched for a moment, the man flitted from group to group with the natural inclinations of a socialite. The longest that Taybur paused was before Numair, who held his daughter. Her cries could be heard over the merry making, but as the man leaned over she quieted.

Alan released a breath and turned away. It was so beyond tiring, dealing with people. If only his cursed stomach would settle. Then at least he’d be able to fill it. The different aromas of the island foods had the boy’s mouth watering.

He’d have to ask Aly later why she was in such pain.

Both of them shouldn’t be though. He bowed from the clearing. Not so much feigning exhaustion as he was fighting against it, wishing that his friends were here with him: Kel and Neal, Merric and Owen. Then perhaps he’d have a decent distraction from thinking about Taybur Sibigat.

***

If Alan had any hopes for sleep that night they were dashed. Sweat gathered thickly across his body. He’d already peeled off all other layers save for his loincloth and still the blankets beneath him were damp.

Though it was too late to train, and he was well and truly too drained to do so, Alan still stepped outside, wishing for even the hint of a breeze. There was nothing, not even the hint of a draft. It almost felt  _ hotter  _ outside.

The boy groaned, and a sharp giggle broke through the sound of cicadas.

“Who’s there?” He called out, suddenly  _ very  _ aware that he was practically naked.

“What do you mean, who’s there? Who are you expecting?” Alianne Cooper---he supposed it was different now-- teased as she stepped out from behind a palm tree, rolling her eyes with a snort as Alan attempted to cover himself. “Please, it’s not as though I’ve not seen you in this state and worse.” Before anymore words could be said, she rushed him. Alan hugged his sister tightly, swinging her around, their laughter hushed to not wake anyone else.

“Mithros, why are you like this?” He asked, shaking his head and crossing his arms. “There’s such a thing as privacy.”

“Not with Da or I around! And my, my, aren’t  _ you _ turning into the perfect knight.” She squeezed his biceps, “and when did  _ you _ gain muscles?”

“You’re so funny.” Alan wanted to say  _ while you were gone _ , and he’d barely stopped himself, the other words tumbling out instead, “Please, you should see the other lads!” he pushed her away playfully. While he no longer felt the peculiar sense of nausea from her any longer, but still there was a perplexing weight about her. Like a tangle of threads, Alan worked through what he felt from his twin, realization staying just barely out of reach,an idea teasing the very edges of his perception.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Aly placed her hands upon her hips in a way that mirrored Ma.

And suddenly everything fell into place.

Alan’s hazel eyes grew wide and he turned his head away from the other as she threw her hands up into the air, exasperated. For a moment his own thoughts drowned out his sister’s voice.

_ Did she know?  _ Alan only knew a very small amount about girls, but it was hard to imagine that she wouldn’t know about the new life she carried inside of her! But she hadn’t said anything to him yet. But… would she?

Alan opened his mouth, closed it again. Was this something he should even point out to her? For so long there were no secrets between them. And as angry as he was that she’d chosen to stay here… to make a new life, Alan had been the first to betray them.

Was this the sort of thing she’d want to discover on her own if she truly did not already know? News she’d want the joy of sharing with him and others? Not from her interfering brother who always knew too much about her?

Oh the irony.

But  _ pregnant _ ? Really? Alan wasn’t sure how to feel about this. He’d not even met her husband yet, this… Nawat the Crow.

“-By the realms, you can be so quiet-“ Aly was muttering more to herself than to her twin, but he snorted none the less.

“You’re simply too loud,” was his retort. She spun.

“Wha-how dare you!”

“Speaking of- how dare  _ you  _ not visit me sooner!”

“So sorry dearest, Mama was busy.”

“For all that is bright and shining in this world- please, for the love of Mithros and the Mother Goddess, do not ever refer to yourself as that in my presence.” Alan made a show of gagging as he scowled at her, before worrying at his bottom lip. “So it was not you spying on me this morning?”

“What? That wasn’t me, oh brother of mine.” She leaned back against the tree and folded her arms.

“Then who in the realms was it? Don’t tell me you tasked one of your people with babysitting me.” Aly simply rolled her eyes and shrugged, before a thoughtful look crossed her features.

“Perhaps it was the captain of the queen’s guard,” she mused, “he’s always at least five steps ahead of everyone else. Hell, he even keeps pace with  _ me _ !”

Alan nodded, yawning so widely his jaw cracked. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

Aly made a rude motion towards him. “I’ll go ahead and ask Taybur why he was spying on my little brother-” she jibed.

But Alan’s usual retort;  _ that they were less than a minute apart,  _ died on his suddenly dry tongue.“T-taybur? As in Taybur Sibigat?”

“I saw you’ve already met him! What were the two of you talking about?”

Alan hedged about, shifting from foot to foot, not exactly wanting to share that the captain of the queen’s guard had given him a lecture-nor what that discourse had been about. “What? You don’t already know?”   
  


Aly opened her mouth, and Alan knew what was coming. The girl could wheedle him for hours, but he knew how to hold out from her. Before a single word could be said however a small dark shape dropped down from her neck, pooling about her wrist like a snake.    
  


“What is it Trick?” 

  
Alan leaned forward as the Darking spoke, “Chenaol is waiting for you in the kitchen!” The small creature squeaked, bowing it’s head towards Alan.    
  


“Aunt Daine’ll be pleased to see these lil guys.” He murmured as his sister sighed.    
  


“I’m sorry brother, I’ll have to catch up with you later.” The boy nodded, biting his lip and tucking away the pang of hurt. Aly had a separate life now, after all.


End file.
